It All Depends On Time
by WolfWinks
Summary: The war ended thirty years ago, but it didn't end how it was suppose to. Voldemort won the war and became the Minister and Lord of Magic. He rules over the world with a heavy hand, disposing of all that opposed him and all muggleborn children and adults. It's time things change.


**Written for QLFC Round 8** :

Base Prompt: What happens to the Ministry if Voldemort wins?

Additional Prompts: (word) moonlight, (dialogue) "Who cares? We could be dead in a couple of hours." (object) time turner.

 **Written for History of Magic at Hogwarts School**

Option 1: Write a story about the battle between good and evil, or Light and Dark magic.

 **Latin translation** :

 _Flamma de novo adveniat_ : The flame comes anew.

 _Ignis_ : Fire.

I apologise if this isn't accurate, but I just used Google Translate.

This is a Voldemort!wins AU (obviously).

* * *

The clear night sky reflects off still water. The tree's shadows tower over the soft ground, and the moonlight makes it possible to see. Castle ruins stand in the distance, but the robed figure barely spares the sight a glance. The figure's head is bent low over the lake edge, and a single flower is clenched in their pale hand.

" _Flamma de novo adveniat_ ," a female voice murmurs. The sound barely penetrates the silent world around her. " _Flamma de novo adveniat_."

She repeats the spell two, three, four times. Her voice fills with power as the chant continues. " _Flamma de novo adveniat_ ," she chants a final time, placing the flower on the water surface.

She watches the flower float into the lake as the wind picks up around her. The water becomes restless, but the flower is never disturbed. The trees sway until they are almost parallel to the ground, and leaves are pulled away from the branches. The woman's robe whips around her body, but the large hood covering her features barely moves. The air warms until small blades of grass start to wilt, and the whistle of the wind reaches a crescendo. As suddenly as it has appeared, the wind disappears, and all that is left is the unbearable heat and a small orange blaze in the centre of the lake where the flower once was.

"You are alone?"

The woman stands slowly, careful to keep her empty hands visible at all times. "I always am," she says. She raises her head just enough to look at the transparent face in the centre of the conjured flame. The night's moonlight can be seen through the figure's eyes, and the sight makes her shiver. The voice is male, but his features are obscured by a robe hood just like the woman's.

"It is almost time," she whispers. "The final person has been placed in the desired position, and the information is being passed as we speak."

"We act on the first."

The woman starts to fidget with the hem of her robe. "That's only in two days," she says. She attempts to keep her eyes lowered and her voice free of doubt, but the words waver as she speaks them.

The heated air warms further, and a fallen leaf catches fire by the woman's feet. "It cannot be helped. Thirty years ago _they_ failed. It's now time _we_ set things right."

The woman raises her eyes, and a strand of vibrant orange hair—matching the colour of the flame—falls free from her hood. "You're right, my love." Her eyes harden and she clenches her fists. "It's time."

* * *

The corridors in the Ministry are always busy. People run around everywhere completing jobs and tasks for the Minister, but despite the activity, there is rarely a voice raised. In fact, the people employed often move through their day without uttering a sound other than "yes, Sir" and "no, Sir."

Lorcan Scamander is one such employee. He is an Auror, but most of the time, he stays in the Ministry on guard duty. For the last few months, he's been guarding the door to the Department of Mysteries with his partner, but they aren't the only ones on guard down here. There are guards at every door.

 _Not that it's all that different on other levels,_ Lorcan thinks in disgust. The Ministry had been big on security ever since the rebellion of 2014 when a small rag-tag team of leftover Order members managed to enter some high security rooms and steal important information. Lorcan was only a child at the time, but he remembered his mother coming home winded, wounded and weeping.

His father never came home.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Lorcan glances around the corridor he guards. There are portraits everywhere of their Lord and not much else. No one wants to enter the bowels of the Ministry when they know what happens down here. Lorcan shudders at the thought.

Footsteps echo from down the hall, a chilling sound that makes Lorcan shudder again. Lorcan and his partner—Edward Brown— who is standing on his right, snap to attention. Edward was the perfect partner for him. Having lost his mother at a young age, they could connect in the worst possible way.

Two men turn the corner: Head Auror Scorpius Malfoy and his assistant Henry Nott. They both look like the perfect pure-blood with their heads held high and backs ramrod straight.

Lorcan turns his head away, but he tilts his right hand until his palm is facing outwards. As the pair walk past, a wand tip is pressed into Lorcan's hand.

 _One hour. Be ready._

The voice echoes in through his mind, and he presses his hand against Edward's to pass along the message. Lorcan almost smiles as he watches the pair disappear around a corner. It's finally time.

* * *

Entering the Ministry undetected was almost impossible nowadays; almost being the operative word. Frank Abbott—named after his grandfather—enters the Tainted Blood Disposal Office (once the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office) without anyone's notice. He's the first distraction, and he _cannot_ be caught.

Frank walks around the room, placing flat grey circles everywhere. He makes sure to place them in and under places where they will make the biggest impact, and he makes sure to complete his task quickly.

Despite being on a time limit, Frank can't help but stare at the large wall listing the Most Wanted Mudblood and Blood Traitors. He stares at all the familiar faces. People he knows, or knew. People that he grew up loving, and people that he ended up losing. He glances over the faces with Weasley features, only one face clear of the dreaded red cross indicating their disposal, and his eyes linger on his father's face. Gaunt features and hard eyes stare back at him with determination and power. A red cross covers the picture.

 _This is for you,_ he thinks, not daring to say his sentiments out loud.

Frank turns to face the room, his back pressed against the door he will escape from, and lets his courage take hold. He raises his wand above his head, his cloaking spell falling at the same time. He ignores the shocked exclamations at his sudden appearance and says the spell that will start it all.

" _Ignis._ "

The room explodes in noise, smoke and light as Frank exits with grim features. _It has started._

* * *

Explosions echo around the ministry, but she ignores them all. Racing through the corridors, the woman approaches the depths of the Ministry. The department is guarded by her people, so she doesn't pause when she spots them.

Lorcan makes her stop before she passes through the doorway. "Let me help," he says.

"You need to keep your cover," she replies without a hint of hesitation.

"Who cares about my cover?" he demands. "We could be dead in a couple of hours anyway."

"True," she acknowledges. "But you don't have to die. If we fail—"

"If we fail, we're all dead."

She frowns, but after a moment's pause, nods. "Fine, but Edward must stay here."

She turns her eyes to Edward, noticing Lorcan doing the same, and waits until his pale face nods.

"I'll hold them off as long as I can," Edward says. "Lorcan's right. If we fail here, we're all dead." He swallows and closes his eyes for a moment. When he opens them again they are blazing with an angry fire. "If I'm going to die, I'll go down fighting, just like my mum."

Her eyes soften, but she doesn't say anything. She nods and turns to Lorcan. "Let's go. We're running out of time."

* * *

The Department of Mysteries is completely deserted. The explosions had created the distraction that the pair needed, and they walk towards the spinning room in silence.

Lorcan's muscles are tense all over, and it isn't the fear of his own death that is keeping him tense. He glances at the woman beside him before lowering his eyes to the ground.

"Why did you come?"

The woman barely spares him a glance before she turns her eyes back to the corridor walls. She stays silent for a long time, and Lorcan starts to believe she won't answer.

"I'm here for the same reason you are," she says eventually.

"But you're our leader. Without you—"

"We're here."

Lorcan looks up from the ground and sees the large door before him. It's one he recognises well, and it glows with the amount of magic embedded into the wood. Lorcan turns his eyes to his companion, who is pulling a small stone from the folds of her cloak.

"This will nullify all the magic in the surrounding area. The effect only lasts a second but the wards on the door should dissolve. If you don't want to be powerless, back up."

Lorcan backs away and watches as the woman fiddles with the small stone before she presses down and whispers a few words. She backs up and stands next to him until a small pop emits from the stone. A sound like shattering glass echoes around the room, and the magic covering the door fades to nothing.

"Come on."

The pair enter through the door, and although there is no magic left to harm them, they both tense as they pass through the doorway. Nothing happens, and they move forward with a little more confidence.

The moment the pair step into the room, the door behind them closes. The woman tenses and waits for the room to spin, but Lorcan just smiles.

"I was authorized to enter here so I could guard properly." His eyes sparkle as he remembers the manipulation he needed for that to be possible.

His companion must have heard the words he didn't say because her lips twitch—the closest she ever comes to a smile. The moment barely lasts a second before she strides towards the third door down and throws it wide open.

"Time," she says.

The room beyond is lit up with a powerful white glow. Clocks cover the walls, floor, and roof. There is a large, crystal bell jar at the far end of the room, and to one side, there is a large cabinet filled with small hourglasses on chains. There are words on each shelf, but they aren't close enough to read them. Lorcan doesn't need to, though. He knows that each shelf holds a time turner that can go back different lengths of time.

She enters, and Lorcan follows, but as soon as the pair pass the doorway, the door slams shut, and all the powerful white light diminishes until there is only one left. The single light illuminates two people. Their features are obscured, but it's clear who they are.

"Well, well." The voice is like slime over the pair's skins, and they shiver. "Now, I do believe you're an Auror, are you not?"

Lorcan gulps, but he holds himself tall and his wand ready. He doesn't let his hands shake or his legs collapse.

"And you," the voice says. "Who might you be?" The figure steps towards the pair and raises the light above his head. His features are revealed, as are those of his companion.

"Malfoy," she whispers.

"Now, now, my dear. You're being rude. You know who I am, but I don't know who you are." His eyes harden and his wand twitches at his side. "Show yourself."

Magic is forced into the words, and a wind whips around the room. Their robes are thrown into disarray, and the woman's hood—charmed to not fall off under any wind—starts to tremble. In a few seconds, the magical fused into the wind manages to crumble the charms on the hood and push it back, revealing a young freckled face and vibrant orange hair. Her eyes are filled with intelligence, but they are darkened with hate.

"Well, isn't this a treat. Little Rose Weasley has come to avenge her family." Draco Malfoy raises a finger to his lips. "Or," he says, glancing towards the time-turners, "is she trying to save them?"

"Well, I guess you'll be seeing your family soon." He raises his wand, _Avada Kedavra_ on his lips, but a spell hits him first. It doesn't come from the front.

Lorcan watches as the elder Malfoy—second in command to Voldemort himself—flies through the air and slams into a far wall. The room shakes when he hits, and Lorcan presses a hand against the wall to steady himself.

"Are you alright, love?"

Rose and Lorcan both turn eyes to Scorpius, and Rose's eyes soften. "Of course," she says. She raises her own wand, and a dark light shoots out towards the elder Malfoy. Ropes as dark as the night wrap themselves around the man and squeeze painfully.

"Did you really think we didn't have a better plan than charging head first into danger?" Rose asks as she approaches the man. The ropes are already beginning to burn with the power of the Dark Lord's second in command so she knows she doesn't have much time. "You shouldn't be so cocky."

She grabs an hourglass off the bottom shelf and approaches Scorpius. Lorcan watches them with his wand raised against Malfoy.

"It won't matter what you change," Malfoy says. He struggles against the ropes, but they are not yet weak enough to break. "The Dark Lord will still win."

Rose wraps the chain around her head and Scorpius' and sends his father a smug look. "I guess only time will tell."

* * *

(w.c 2,267)

WolfWinks -xx-


End file.
